©Jeff Franks — October 1994
We are not quite cold but we sit wearing socks
We keep real world out behind doors with brass locks
We sit on our sofas eating ice cream with spoons
We no longer measure time by a sun or a moon
but zeroes and thirties on LED clocks
timing escapes for a sweet ice-cold pop
one ear left open for the ritual fade
subconscious advertising jingles invade
not willing to miss one opening screen
at a thoughtless noise-maker we vehemently scream!
We could read a book, but we’d have pages to turn
We could disconnect, but we’ve got hours to burn
We are willing to pay these huge cable bills
We are rationalizing its cheaper than pills
who can it hurt
what does it hurt
when can it hurt
where does it hurt
how can it hurt
why does it hurt?
We see a reflection on the screen when it blacks
We see the reflection and see we looking back
We ponder attraction while the screen rolls and flickers
We know we’re addicted and we’re getting much sicker
it hurts all that watch, like an anthrax bovine
it sucks imagination out, but you feel so divine
it takes all your time, anytime you can’t quit
it seeps in and settles, when too near it you sit
it uses you up, and then waits for the next
makes us all idle, confused, and perplexed
The alternating current vampire on a swivel it swirls
The imagination eater, its vivid colors they twirl
The sounds and the images are efficiently compact
The reason we watch it is not for the facts
the talking head tells you what you should think
the approach, clever and subtle, moves faster than mink
the fox in the hen house is the face on the tube
the hens on the straw pile are about to get screwed
the market researchers know when they’ve got a winner
this well programmed flock, in a trance, are their dinner
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